Cleaning the Dishwasher Filter (and writing about it) is Surprisingly Therapeutic

I skipped my group therapy today. (Not actually a “therapy” group, but a writing group that we all agree is therapeutic.) I should not have skipped. I know it’s my loss. I enjoy everything about this unique form of therapy: the writing, the being read to, the socializing, the people, the friendships. Who knows what good stories I missed?

But on this day I have “too much to do.” I need to get my house in order, I need to organize the taxes, I need to plan my son’s birthday party, I need to etc etc etc … But the thing is, I feel like doing none of these things. I have a CT scan tomorrow morning; I just want to be anxious and home alone with my worries.

So, after dropping off my son and doing a telemedicine appointment from my phone in the car, I head home, instead of to the community center, to soothe myself.

I have the house to myself. This is rare, so I rationalize: Alone Time is just as important as Group Time.

But when I survey my messy house, I get more anxious. Alone with my thoughts …fears …ambitions… regrets. Worse Case Scenarios intrude. My thoughts go from, “Isn’t Alone Time GREAT?” to:
I’m such a failure. My energy, my hope is fading.

I’ve been trying to finish writing my stupid book for 10 years now–it’s why I joined the memoir group. I had decided 2024 is the year I finish a complete draft –or I just admit it is too hard and give up. (Note: I’ve decided the same thing January 1, every year for the past 10 years.)

Illogically, instead of diving in and tidying up the messy house, sorting the tax papers, or going upstairs to the computer to work on my book, I …

look at my phone.

An hour later, mad at myself, I resolve to change. To be better. To stop wasting time. Who knows how much time I, or any of us, have on Earth? “Stop wasting it!” I scold myself.

But then I decide I can use my phone for good not evil. I download a Happier Habit-Change App… My phone can be a tool for self-improvement instead of a time suck. This app promises to help me make better choices to achieve my goals. Maybe this is the year I CAN replace my bad habits with good–no, great–ones? I too CAN have the 7 Habits of Highly Effective People…and more!

Now I feel better! I’m no longer slacking by missing my group, I am choosing to become a better person, a person who “works smart” … who effectively sets goals, tackles and solves problems.

This app makes meeting my goals fun! It gives me SNERGY! I’m pumped! “Action is the antidote to anxiety!” I am taking Action!

I look around for something I can accomplish, some small task … The taxes are too big of a job. My book is too big too. What is something easier? Small steps! Quick wins! What doable task might energize me, make me feel I have some semblance of control over my messy life?

Supposedly the worst stress for humans is being responsible for something we have no control over. Which is much of life. Ergo, if we find something we can control, we feel less stressed. It’s why moms give toddlers a choice between two snacks. With SO MANY things in life we just can’t control, we feel better if we’re in charge of SOMEthing, even if it is just a snack.

But I am still sitting, alone at my kitchen table, still trying to soothe my anxiety about how fast time goes. How long will my health hold out? What will happen to my autistic son if–no, WHEN–I die? As I feel my thoughts start spiraling downward, suddenly my eyes falls upon…. the open dishwasher.

The dishes weren’t quite as clean as usual, were they? I see a little extra water around the drain.
Now usually I wait til the dishwasher is completely clogged (not just slow to drain) before I take action. But today I find an old toothbrush, Dawn (de-greasing!) dish soap, and some baking soda. I start the gross maintenance task of removing and scrubbing the filter. (A task my mother never taught me. A task I never knew existed for my first half century of living. Do they not making dishwashers like they used to??)

But I know what needs doing and how to do it. Sure enough, 30 minutes later, the gross, slimy dishwasher filter is now proactively (!) clean.  The Happier Habit-Improving App suggests you take “before and after” photos. Oops, I forgot the before…. But I take an “after.” Look: Mission accomplished!

 I do feel better. So what else?

I look to the grease filter over the stove. When was the last time I cleaned that? (The answer is “never.) Luckily, I already have the cleaning tools out, the water is hot. Does it really only take 15 minutes to clean, pat dry, and put it back up over the stove??

Suddenly I’m killing my goals with this app … It’s a whole new me! And tomorrow (and every day) the app will remind me to: 1) Clean/declutter something for one hour and then 2) Write for one hour.

Notifications at 10 am and 11am, respectively, will pop up to ensure that I WILL take action. 

Hmm… Nevermind that I suspect (no, I KNOW) the app’s reminders will interrupt whatever else I’m doing and annoy me… whether it is something important or some self-“soothing” (time wasting?) task like Spelling Bee or scrolling funny BuzzFeed posts (because Funny is Therapy).

And sure enough “Tomorrow” while in the middle of that kidney scan as I am holding my water for dear life the cheery “Meet your goals!” Declutter! Write!” notifications pop up, disturbing not just me but those around me too.

But maybe the next “tomorrow” I won’t go back to my habits of not cleaning house and not writing? 
Even tho it seems it’s always something: Managing the Mental Load. Emotional Labor. Living in Modern Times. Caregiving of selves and others.

I always thought when I didn’t have a job “outside the home,” I’d get so much more done. But “There never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them…” as Jim Croce put it, poetically, succinctly, presciently.

But now that I don’t have a real job, I always feel guilty about how little I seem to accomplish. Soon I’ll be a 65 year old senior, and what do I have to show for it? Not a clean house, not a book, that’s for sure.
I do wonder how people who don’t have the dream of writing a book or some other big creative goal live their lives? Do they feel the inner peace I lack? I know I’m not alone…a writer friend shared the meme: “Being a writer is basically having a huge homework’s assignment hanging over you every single day _for the rest of your life_.” And I’m sure the people in charge of monumental tasks like forging world peace and solving global warming and stopping genocide feel their work –which dwarfs my small dreams — have great difficulty finding inner peace, whether they are writers or not.

I think of the artists who die young but still left their mark for eternity. Jim Croce only had 30 years… yet in that short time left us a legacy of love, songs, time in a bottle and a son who also became a musician. Imagine if he’d had 30+ more years? And Jon Lennon was only 40… George Harrison 58. My brother was only 51. None of us knows how many years we are gifted.

One of the things writing coaches recommend if you want to write memoir is to read memoirs. By all kinds of authors. Ordinary people who are able to tell extraordinary stories as well as extraordinary people who take the time to write down how it all happened. I do love to read memoirs. A task much easier and enjoyable than trying to write one. But I get jealous when I read in prefaces how much the authors loved writing down their stories. It was such fun, so therapeutic to write a book. They thank their editors and all the people who “helped me get my stories out of my head and onto the printed page, thank you! I love you all”

Sigh. Who are all these helpers and can they please come to my house??

So now as I write down these thoughts, I worry I’ve wasted any dear readers’ time (mine included). My time probably would have been better spent sitting in a circle in the community center listening to my friends’ (more interesting) stories than waxing on about my clean kitchen grease filters.

But maybe not? I did succeed in soothing my anxiety. At least I did “make art” by writing this essay ( “It’s the journey!” “Enjoy the process!”) even if it turns out as ugly as the photo of my greasy dishwasher and stove filters. I still feel like I got something accomplished.

Did you know it took Margaret Mitchell 10 years to finish writing “that one book she had inside” her? And it was only when she was hit by a carthat she had time to fully concentrate on finishing Gone With The Wind while bedridden. Also, she was lucky she had her journalist husband to encourage her, offer feedback and edits, and insist she declare it finished and mail it off to a publisher. (Tho, even then, she tried to snatch it back, not wanting the world to see it).

Anyway, I know I should not drive myself crazy with writing goals that may or may not be compatible with my nature or life. Some days it is better to employ Scarlett O’Hara’s stress management philosophy about our worries: “I can’t think about that today or I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about that tomorrow.”

Not surprisingly, I soon deleted the Habits-Improving App so its annoying reminders would stop interrupting me.

Not surprisingly, I am the same old unimproved me.

But I can always worry (and possibly write) about that tomorrow.

And at least my dishwasher filter is clean. 🙂

Small wins.